


with my memories (J'ai allumé le feu)

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Take a leap of faith with me</i>
</p><p> </p><p>“You want us to double-cross the people we work for, protect Mueller’s secrets and leave the country before they catch on. Sure, Philipp, that’s a perfect plan.” The point man only leaned on his elbows across the cheap, dusty poker table. His poker face certainly on for Micha's benefit. Basti's eyebrows went higher the longer the stalemate went on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with my memories (J'ai allumé le feu)

**Author's Note:**

> This was a beast of a fic to wrestle into words. I'm still not sure how effective it was but this is what I've got to show for it. Thanks to the futbal minibang for always challenging me to write out of my comfort zone and usual time limits. Special thanks to Karo for the art.

“Where is it, Philipp?” Claudia’s nails looked sharp under the cuff of his sleeve. He wouldn’t use the gun in his hand, not on himself or on her. Mats had the envelope in his hands and was getting away, but Basti stood, watching the ghost tear down Philipp with the same question. It was always where, where, where. At first, Bastian had thought the spectre of Claudia wanted to sabotage the extractions, their jobs, but she only ever went after Philipp like a dog gnawing at a bone until it was willing to crack under the pressure.

Philipp dropped the gun. Bastian flinched at the muffled sound of it hitting the carpet, turning his head away. He would never get used to seeing the woman he had worked with, his friend take the surrendered weapon and turn it on the man she loved in life.

The gunshot made him close his eyes out of respect for the memory of the dead woman. The strains of Lili Marleen filtering through the fog of the dream. _Hebt mich wie im Traume, dein verliebter Mund, wenn sich die späten Nebel drehn, werd' ich bei der Laterne steh'n_

“Wie einst Lili Marleen.” He finishes with the tinny Marlene Dietrich in his headphones. The kick interrupted by Philipp with trouble lining his eyes, the exhaustion clear to see and not just because they were working overnight on this job. Bastian offers a smile that feels more like a grimace, at least he didn’t have to dry clean this suit in the morning. The image of Philipp’s body on the ground with blood haloing his head is hard to get rid of from his thoughts. Claudia was ruthless, unforgiving in Philipp’s mind.

“We need to go. I’ll be in touch if the wire doesn’t come through or--” Bastian holds a hand up, having heard the spiel a thousand times before from his old friend. “I know, Fips. You know where to find me.” Bastian fixes the buttons of his cuff, missing the wince of the shorter man.

“Take care, tell Lukas I’ll send him a postcard.” They went their separate ways as they left the room. Philipp heading to some destination unknown and Bastian to rack up some frequent flier miles until he could securely get to Lukas.

He tried not to worry about Philipp being alone for whatever stretch of time it took for another job to crop up on the agenda. Bastian had been sure Philipp was going to retire after the accident, with the radio silence for almost a year and a half on anything to do with dreams and extractions but then the call came like nothing had changed

*

"We've got a new job." Philipp doesn't sound thrilled which immediately sets off warning signals for Bastian. Even if he didn't agree with the contractor, he would keep a professional attitude about it. If Fips didn't like it right off the bat, it had to be either dangerous or personal.

"Where do we meet?" He knows the protocol. They never discuss the details over the phone but the answer of 'Berlin' gets him antsy, up and on his feet. Basti could be there in a few hours, but Philipp had refused to step foot inside their birth country since the accident. It was a matter he respected and out of both of them, Philipp managed to have a contact in half of the countries on the continent so it wasn't much of a worry where he was as long as he was still safe. He was currently holed up in Turkey as far as Bastian knew.

"Another thing, do you have Michael's number?" The casual request was edged with something that always cropped up when Philipp mentioned the other man. Basti pinched himself. He would have gone for his totem if he wasn't certain he wouldn't dream of such a request from his best friend. At least, now he could guess that it was personal _and_ dangerous.

"Yeah, It's around here somewhere. I'll get it to you." A team with them and Micha, it would almost be like old times. He hung up and reached inside his pocket anyway. Just to be sure.

"This is a gamble and if you don’t want to take it I understand." Philipp understates, adjusting his tie without an ounce of flustered nerves. Bastian touched his fingertips together in rapid succession and tilted his head with a funny expression on his face, caught between 'no shit' and 'what else is new'. Micha didn't have the same problem with using his words.

“You want us to double-cross the people we work for, protect Mueller’s secrets and leave the country before they catch on. Sure, Philipp, that’s a perfect plan.” The point man only leaned on his elbows across the cheap, dusty poker table. His poker face certainly on for Micha's benefit. Basti's eyebrows went higher the longer the stalemate went on. The three men having a staring contest are interrupted by a polite cough. Miro was half the reason, no, **most** of the reason Micha was even here to begin with. He hired the best of the best to train him and his ward against extraction. He was their only chance at running undetected in Mueller's mind.

Bastian was still puzzling out the undercurrent between them, a leap away from when they first started. Philipp still under the tutelage of Arne and Micha heading the team with Torsten. He had always thoughts the both of them were too stubborn, never giving enough slack in either direction to really solve their differences but they made a hell of a team when there was cooperation.

"I have one more request, Philipp."

"Don't you dare say you want to come along." Micha cuts in. Philipp's eyebrows draw in but he keeps his voice even. The extractor liked to push his buttons for a reaction, act like he was still in charge, like Philipp's opinion didn't matter to him.

"What is it, Miroslav?" The business man had insisted he call him by his first name since all he had gotten was his given name as well. It meant a great deal to Klose that he had not taken the offer to extract Thomas' secrets and planned a deception at their own risk.

"Well, if you're in need of an architect, I may have someone in mind." Bastian fell back from balancing his chair on two legs. Micha snorted in amusement. Philipp folded his hands together, unruffled by the crash of the chair. Miro blinked as Basti jack-knifed off the seat smoothly, reflex kicking in to save his butt the bruise of hitting the floor.

"Who do you recommend, pops?" Anyone worth their salt had a little notoriety.

*

Mario lifted his sunglasses from his face. The cafe was crowded for the hour. The setting sun making a pretty backdrop. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Right shape, wrong indentations. His thumb traces the side of the totem. Someone had done their homework, trying to fake his little gambit of reality.

"You know the thing about nondescript streets with nondescript cafes...it's really boring." He didn't quite shout but definitely got the attention he wanted. The projections of people drinking at the next table over simultaneously put down their mugs. A man who looked overdressed for the tiny establishment took a seat next to him.

"You caught on quickly, Mr. Goetze." He reaches out for a handshake. Mario doesn't take it.

"It's not noisy enough. There are cars parked but nothing on the street besides a bus or occasional car." A projection drops a spoon for her sugar out of the corner of his eye. Another table of students start packing up their bags in a hurry.

"I suppose I've always been more fond of the subway." His lips quirked up slightly.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you were the one who took the Mueller job on the market and made a deal with Miro. Pleasure, Mr. Lahm. There's a reputation that precedes you. I hope this boring street isn't a showcase of your skills." He smiles like the little shit Andre accuses him of being constantly. His team's forger had been camping out with another team as a favor and he missed the idiot. It was part of the reason he hadn't taken the job himself with his team.

"On the contrary, I'm here for you to show me what you can do." Mario turned serious. If this was a trial run, he couldn't play around. It would have to be subtle changes or else the subconscious milling about the city would turn violent. The flower stand only had red roses to sell now. Mario turns into an alley and changes it to a narrow cobble street that led out to an open square with a fountain in the shape of spouting cherubs.

A blonde woman skirted past him with a knife flashing in the dying sun.

*

There’s a careful tease between them. He’s seen it before with younger, smaller boys. Nothing with bite, though he wonders about the person Micha appears to be and the one he truly is. He wonders about all of them, closed off in their various ways. Bastian was the easiest to figure out, a forger was a forger, pulling on different skins whenever the mood suited or he needed a deflection. Philipp and Micha were a whole different story. He needed a code breaker and a foreign language dictionary just to get a read on them.

Mario had never worked on this scale before, partnership meant talking, not reading in between lines that seemed to squiggle out before your eyes until you can’t make out a single word.

He is curious even so.

“What’s the deal with them?” He perches on the wobbly stool chair with a duct-taped cushion, watching Philipp’s mouth turn down while Bastian and Micha’s laughter echoed off the shabby walls of the warehouse.

“Depends on what you want to know.” Claudio doesn’t take his eyes off the bubbling brown liquid in his beaker. Mario misses Marco, misses familiarity and people he knew he could trust. He tries not to judge a book by its cover. He tries not to think about Claudia thrusting a kitchen knife into the space between his ribs and labeling this a madhouse just from one man with a ghost.

The ever-present furrow between Philipp’s brows smooths out, looking up and catching Mario’s eye as if he sensed his eyes. His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw. Some part of him whispers there is a ticking in the room and it is not just the clock on the wall. His gut instinct tells him he should just leave, but he honors his words and Miro was in the balance as well.

“They’ve known each other for a long time.” Claudio’s words sound vaguely reassuring. Mario schools his face, tells himself he is jumping to conclusions that do not concern him after this job is done. He’s doing this for Thomas and the money was an added benefit.

“What is a long time?” In this business, long can denote a variety of answers. Claudio finally turns his head to answer. He is the sanest individual they have on the team, Mario is almost certain.

Maybe honesty is worth more in their line of work than being sane.

“Long enough to remember not to fear death.” It is glib, a morbid joke. Bastian is punching Philipp’s arm in jest. Micha’s fingers move so slightly Mario isn’t even sure he caught anything but his job is details. As they say, the devil is in the details. Damning Micha into one role feels like a mistake but then again, the simplest solution is often the correct one.

*

Mario is working late on the model maze for the horse ranch. Nature was trickier to modify for a situation like this but at least it was only the first level of the dream and Claudio wasn't a strange to horses or the land. Bastian was going to be playing Holger, who had a healthy distant respect for the beasts Thomas loved after a riding mishap. The single level house became an expanded maze of rooms that would give Basti enough time to hook up the PASIV if anything went wrong.

They wouldn't spend too much time on the outside but Mario was prepared in case. The worst part was getting the minute details of differences between the horses Thomas housed. Thankfully, Lisa was off riding season so he wouldn't have to keep a schedule of what horse would be missing.

"Why did you do that?" The raised voice gives him pause, setting down the craft knife on the cluttered wooden table. Eavesdropping wasn't the more important thing on his to do list but when Micha and Lahm decided to take up the test run for Claudio's batch of sedative, Mario might've stuck around just to see the result along with getting more work done.

"What else was I supposed to do? That's not her, Philipp. It never was so don't treat that projection like you've got some sin on your back you need to absolved of. Letting her kill you doesn't solve a damn thing." Micha's low tone makes him edge closer out of his little work area to the main part of the warehouse.

"Don't. You have no idea." Philipp's fingers balled up into fists at his side. The PASIV between them hasn't timed out yet which means Claudia had made a killer appearance after five hours give or take.

"You act like you're the only one affected. It's been three years. You've given her a whole country to haunt, don't give her free reign here." Micha taps the side of his head. His voice bitter and cold with anger. Mario only sees a hint of hurt in Philipp's eyes before he turns his back to the private scene, guilt overwhelming him. The lamp shines on his headphones. He puts them on and starts scoring some more cardboard.

If Micha or Philipp checked in on him, he didn't know. He avoided looking up for the rest of the night.

“Has Claudia ever shot you?” He asks Bastian. The greying blonde sighs slowly as if he knew his question was a long time coming.

“Yes, and I suggest you worry about teaching me the third level of the dream instead of asking me questions about Philipp’s psyche.” They were in the dream. The building was sleek lines and warm furniture, everything tailored to Miro’s tastes, the empire he had built with a bit of luck and a lot of success. Micha was going to take on the role of Miro for the dream. The safe in the executive office was familiar territory for Thomas which would make it ideal for his secrets.

After all, they had to at least attempt a heist to sell the story. Philipp wasn’t going to leave with the secrets. They would stage a false account of Thomas’ subconscious finally militarizing and becoming too much of a risk on the job.

“Isn't it worrying? He’s in charge of the second level and that’s integral to the dream structure. We can’t be here,” he gestures to the lobby, “if we can’t get through the third dream. It’s not like there’s any real hiding spots at a stadium and a horse farm.” Mario was still huffy over that. Two stages were contractually useless for their job description as thieves.

Thomas and Miro invested in some stock for the Bavarian team and while he was envious of the box seats they held, the stadium just gave him a headache to work around. Nothing about it made him feel at ease.

“We get paid either way.” Mario felt irrationally hysterical about the situation. Maybe he hadn’t been in the dream thief business long enough to find ennui wherever he went, but maybe his outsider perspective was exactly what they needed to knock some sense into them.

“Aren’t you his friend? Why aren’t you trying to help him, Bastian?” The projections start following them. Bastian grabs him by the arm roughly, dragging him down the secondary stairs.

“You really think I haven’t tried? Claudia didn’t always go after the team. At first it was just Philipp getting killed in front of me _over and over again_. The architect and I would go in and out, still getting the job done even with that unpleasantness.

I’ve asked. Believe me, after you see your best friend killed by the woman he gave this up for wake up with absolute resignation on his face far too many times--I’ve tried. She would always ask where is it, where is it and at first I assumed the worst. I thought he wasn’t coming into the dreams with a totem. That **Claudia** was his totem between dreams and the waking world.But wrath and grief do things to people, change them.

I waited a year and half for my best friend to come back, to give me a sign he hadn’t followed his family to death, so every moment I get, I’m aware of my short-comings when it comes to dealing with Philipp. I don’t need you to tell me them.” Bastian curses with more affect in his voice than the projection warranted.

Mario is caught between absorbing the dam of information that just opened up and getting out of the sticky situation they found themselves in. The forger held out a gun.

“Take it. My subconscious won’t let go without a fight.” He reached into his suit jacket to pull out an uzi.

*

Mario and Basti as Holger are sitting with Thomas watching the game between Bayern and Hamburg. Philipp and Micha were wandering with the projections, chatting and getting information that way.

“My favorite is number 25.” Thomas smiles toothily. He looks like a kid, excited to be in the atmosphere even if they were stuck with business suits and serious faces. All he could risk was a scarf proudly bearing the crest and name of the team. It clashed with his sharp dress attire. Mario absently scans the game. They were winning. Of course, even in dreams Bayern has to win. Loyalty ran deep with Thomas.

“I’m partial to number elevens.” Mario replies, looking for the player. He’s not even sure if the line up is right. Half of the team seems to be current one with a few changes of retirees and possibly a ghost by the look of the goalkeeper.

“Look, there’s a streaker on the field.” Thomas points. Basti stands up on the pretense of getting a better look but his back is tense. It’s Claudia on the field, pulling out a gun and shooting towards the stands causing panic. The crowd starts screaming, security get into the action. Mario knows Micha had taken a disguise of a guard but he wasn’t sure which way he would go, towards the commotion or towards them.

“We should leave.” Basti drags Thomas into the stream of panicked people, trying to get out of the stadium.

Mario feels drops of water land on his face. There’s not a cloud in the sky. Something is wrong. They need to find Philipp before Claudia’s appearance does more damage. He can’t see her anymore and he wonders if ghosts have rules about haunting their loved ones.

*

Claudio was still awake in the first level, keeping guard on the rest. The storm moved in quickly, huge booms of thunder and lightning scattered in the sky. The rain was pelting the house sideways. It was not a natural storm. Philipp, still connected to the multi-line PASIV, looks caught up in a nightmare.

“The shadow caught up to you, friend. I told you, holding onto that pain would only make it worse.” They would stay safe in the house but he was going to barricade them in the room just in case the woman that caused so much trouble appeared before he could finish his job.

A bloom of red seeped into the white of Philipp’s shirt, staining the vest dark. Claudio looked at his watch. They would have to start the kick early. He was the architect of this level and now it was time to prove it with gusto. He started up the song, filtering it through the headphones around the rest of the party.

*

Philipp pressed down on his knife wound. It felt like his lung had collapsed but that was probably the pain talking. The ringing in his ears interfered with whatever Micha was shouting at him. His eyes darted behind the silhouette of the desperate man, catching his nightmare in action, flickering like a flame, moving in space unnaturally.

“Claudia.” He lifted his other hand weakly to point, only managing a second before dirt and grass was under his fingers. Gravity felt like a pile of bricks on top of him. Micha turned and ducked the swing of the glittering knife like a practiced dance. His ears came back online.

“What do you want, Claudia, why do you want to see him suffer?” She stops momentarily as if no one had tried to reason with her before.

“I don’t, but he has kept me here, away from Julian. Kept me like a prisoner and won’t give it back!” She shouts, a bubble of bile or blood rises in his throat. Philipp coughs wetly. Second level dream, he thinks hazily. The reason more levels to a dream added more risk was the danger of losing your mind, your sense of self.

“Til death do us part, right honey?” Claudia sneers. Philipp closes his eyes. The ugliness of greed and guilt and years of blame had blurred Claudia's smile from his memory.

It wasn’t death he was heading for. Micha gave up being on the offense. Philipp could go to Limbo with the strain of holding up the dream for them. The last time Micha had shot Claudia, Philipp had been angry but this was necessary. Killing her was only a temporary solution. He could do better than temporary. He had to.

He shot out her knees.

“Don’t make me do this, Claudia.” She crumpled with a cry. The mud sticking to her legs and clothes.

*

“Okay, plan B.” Bastian had knocked Thomas out and carried him to the bathroom to hook up the PASIV. Mario kept a look out on the door.

“Are you crazy? You can’t go into another dream like this. It's not stable enough, he's not stable enough and we're all risking heading to limbo at this point.”

“We _have_ to do it. Plan B, Mario. We stage a hostage situation. You have to be the one to control the level. We’ll have maybe two minutes before his personal security bring the door down. We need to convince Thomas to open the safe in Miro’s office and you’re gonna do it. You know how to forge right?” Bastian rolled up his sleeves.

“Theoretically, why?” His voice went up an octave. Andre had taught him the basics. Mario almost didn’t want to know the answer.

“I’m gonna be Holger, and you’re going to be some goon after money. You won’t even have to talk. Just aim a gun at my head. So, get ready.” Basti jabs the needle under his skin before Mario can protest. The forger hears the faint strains of Lili Marleen.

“That’s not good.”

*

“Don’t think I don’t know what lies you tell yourself, Michael.” Claudia spits out. Philipp’s breathing is labored. Micha presses his jacket down on the blood.

“Goddammit Fips, don’t use Claudia as a mouthpiece for your thoughts. I’d rather hear it from you.” Philipp coughs out blood, trying to clear his windpipe to speak. He grimaces in pain, “Can’t.” A cold sweat makes him shiver. It’s a terrible thought but he doesn’t know if his will is strong enough to get past this, Limbo seems like a reprieve from his ghosts. Maybe he would finally know how Claudia felt trapped in a dream.

They both look up at the warning time of the song. Claudia starts crying, ugly wracking sobs, hugging herself with thin arms. She looks washed out of colors, frail instead of determined.

“I just want to be free.” Her voice cracks. Micha gets up from his knees, placing Philipp’s hand on the jacket with his own.

“You don’t give up. Nobody else has given up.” The warning is clear. Limbo isn't an option for Philipp because Micha wouldn't allow it. It may have been extenuating circumstances that brought them back together but he wouldn't let the chance to fix their wrongs slip away with a sabotaged dream.

He hunches over Claudia. His shadow draping over her drawn form. She’s quiet, still in the way the dying are. Micha has his gun out, trained point-blank at her forehead. “I’m sorry Claudia. you never deserved this.”

Her body doesn’t move, doesn’t disappear. A hand stays stretched out towards Philipp. His heart grieves.

*

Mario feels like he’s going to vomit or jitter out of his faked appearance. The ski mask would hide any flaws of his quick disguise but Thomas is looking at him with a combination of fury and nerves. Holger-Bastian already looked roughed up, black eye, split lip, the works. There was a panic button beneath the desk. Mario had put it there himself and he could see Thomas reaching for it.

“Stop moving. Open the safe!” He shouts in a gruff alien voice to his ears.

“Which should I do? Not move or open the safe.” Thomas gave him lip. Mario nudged the gun none too gently into Holger’s temple.

“Please, Thomas. You know the combination. Miro wouldn’t tell anyone else.” Bastian hung his head. The other man scrubbed at his face, standing in front of the safe. His hand hovering over the keypad.

“I don’t know it. I don’t remember, Holger. I dont--I can’t.” Mario shot at the floor as an improvisation.

Bastian flinched and curled two fingers down. They had a minute before Claudio initiated the kick.

“You better remember fast or I’m going to kill him.” Mario threatened in a growl. Thomas looked back at Holger and the security team at the door started yelling for Thomas. He took a deep breath.

Pressing down on the buttons with sweaty fingers. He went with the first combination of numbers that came to his mind. 1-1-3-2-5-

*

“Lahm, don’t you dare miss the kick. I will drag you out of Limbo myself.” Micha hefted him up to a sitting position. Philipp’s eyes closed but he cracked a smile, the first genuine one Micha had received since coming onto the team.

“Didn’t...know--know you cared.” It was a tremendous effort to keep up his humor. There was a million ways he could respond but Micha knew honesty was the best response in this case. They had spent too much time avoiding saying the truth and letting silence grow between them in place of it.

“You stupid fool. Of course I do.” The vertigo hit him. Micha’s gut swooped as the practiced falling sensation took over. The stadium fell away and the hand he had in his slipped out of his grasp.

EPILOGUE

Bastian rolled over to an empty space where Lukas should have been. He groaned. If Lukas was up this early, there had to be A Plan in store. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. Eight in the morning, was it too much for a retired dream thief to sleep in until noon?

Lukas already had breakfast and tea warm for him in their breakfast nook. A postcard lay next to the plate.

“Lukas?” He called out, a second of paranoia overtaking him. He didn’t dream in the waking world anymore, which always gave him a sense of transitioning from a kick to being awake right away. The polish man shouted back just a moment later from another room, telling him he’ll be right there. He rubbed at his wrist and shook his head.

He just had to trust in reality.

“Did you read it yet?” Lukas kissed him in greeting. Bastian looked him over and laughed.

“Why are you so sweaty? And no, I haven’t even touched breakfast.” Lukas rolled his eyes and picked up a grape from the plate, handing him the card without giving him the time to read it, too excited to wait for him.

“It’s from Micha, inviting us to go to England, to stay for a while.” Bastian forgets about fighting for his food from his partner, worry clear on his face.

“Do you think he’s alright? I won’t go if you don’t want to, but Philipp...” Lukas waves a strawberry on his fork to make him stop babbling, accidentally letting it fall onto the floor. Lukas clears his throat meaningfully. "Read it, will you?" Bastian’s eyes fell onto the handwriting, feeling a strange relief engulf him as he took in the words and meaning.

“Oh.” He didn't think there was much else to say besides that.

*

“Just answer one question for me, little dictator.” He sets his hand down with some show-boating flair. He had been a conman before stealing from dreams. Cards were practically part of him. Philipp still looks calmly at him over the pile of assorted contraband in the pot. Micha grins, already feeling victorious.

“Can you beat four of a kind?” Philipp shows his cards and Micha’s hand stays from pulling the winnings towards him topushing it all to the shorter man. A straight flush, Philipp didn’t even blink as he took a bite of the biscuit cookie on top of the pile.

“How do you do that?” He crossed his arms. They had stopped using cash because Philipp kept winning. Junk food didn’t dent his ego as badly and was an excuse to get Philipp to try at least one new food item a week. England had a variety of strange things the younger of the two hadn't tried. 

“Chewing is a combined effort of teeth, tongue, and lips to prepare food for digestion.” He replies dryly. Micha purposely picked a bag from the bottom of the pile to cause it to tumble and make a mess. Philipp hated getting crumbs on the poker table.

“Thanks Doctor Einstein. Mario called earlier. He’s getting married.” He drops the information casually, gauging the reaction.

Philipp brushes his hands together to get the crumbs off.

“Where?” He matches the tone delivered. Staying with Micha over the months had helped to clear his head beyond a new environment with someone who knew enough of who he was that he didn’t have to try to hide the muddle of his thoughts. Now, most of the facade was to keep Micha on his toes and get under his skin in equal turn. Their game lighthearted instead of barbed.

“The Dortmund airport.” He says a touch exasperated. It brings a broad smile to Philipp’s face.

“That makes sense. They met there if I remember correctly. When are they planning to sign the papers? I could get them legitimized in some other countries in case they need a cover after--” Micha kicks his shin lightly under the table.

“Slow down, point man. They’re pretty set after the Mueller job. I’m sure they’ll take a _long_ honeymoon. Speaking of vacations, you still want to go on the yacht tomorrow? We can wait until Bastian and Lukas get here.” Philipp gives him a serious look. Sometimes, he thought Micha was more afraid of confronting his fears than he was. 

“I’d rather it just be me and you.” He feels the outline of Claudia’s wedding ring in his pocket. It was time to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> A) Yes, Claudia was a dream extractor same as Philipp. They might've met through it tbh but she left it after the pregnancy. Her totem was her wedding ring after they got married. 
> 
> B) The accident was a car accident, on a rainy night. Thus the storm in the first level of the dream. And the lack of cars in the Mario trial dream. 
> 
> C) Micha goes strictly by Micha in this verse because Michael is a common name and he likes to keep his anonymity and mystery up.
> 
> D) Bastian came into the extracting game a bit later than Fips. So there's a lot he missed by virtue of being the baby of the group/team way back when. I like to think Micha and Fips had a heavy dose of respect towards each other before the group split and Micha held some grudges from it.
> 
> E) I'm still not 100% on if Philipp had a stint in Limbo after the Mueller job or not. I'll leave that up to you as the reader. Part of why I think Fips would stay with Micha is he would be very grounded with him, if he did go to Limbo.


End file.
